


Coda - Every Broken Thing

by mona1347, poisontaster



Series: Every Broken Thing [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-24
Updated: 2006-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mona1347/pseuds/mona1347, https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coda - Every Broken Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This says "Coda", but it's not really. It was at the time, but then Mona1347 and I went to go on and write a LOT MORE in this universe, together and alone. So it's the coda of the core arc, but don't take it too seriously.

Dean wiggles—just a little—but Sam catches it.

"So…" Sam draws the word out and Dean's hands clench tight on the wheel. "Really? You… _never?_ "

Dean throws him an exasperated look, shifting uncomfortably—and carefully—on the seat again. Sam's been like a one-note bird all damn day. "No, I never! What the hell? Why are you so fixated on this?"

The grin that spreads across Sam's face is wide and very pleased with itself and Sam slouches lower, throwing his arm over the seat to take up twice as much room as before. "What do you know?" he damn near purrs. "Sammy gets the ass-cherry. Well, all right."

"Dude, I swear, if you don't shut the hell up about it, I _will_ shoot you."

"I'm just saying…"

Dean's lips twist. "Whole lotta nothing, is what you're saying," he growls and Sam holds up his hands and laughs.

It startles Dean, who can't remember the last time he heard Sam sound so…relaxed. His shoulders come down from around his ears and after a moment, he laughs too.

***

This is not the end.

Sam knows they will argue about this. Not once, but time and again.

He knows the looks Dean will give him. The one that says, _I'm ruining you_ , sad and somehow angry. Or the one that says, _I’m just waiting for you to leave_ , wary and disbelieving. Either one will need to be soothed away with his touch and his mouth and soft murmured reassurance because Sam is stubborn and because Dean will never _quite_ believe anything he wants this badly isn't suspect.

Sam doesn't mind. He doesn't care.

Life with Dean is always fighting; part and parcel of who and what Dean is. Dean fights with monsters and men. Dean fights with himself and he'll fight with Sam, same as ever.

They still don't talk about it. Of course they don't. But the only real thing they have, as always, is each other.

So when they get those looks, in small towns and seedy motels, they don't rush to point out they're only brothers. They stare back calmly and are never the first to look away. They let people assume what they want. They always did anyway.

They stop renting doubles on the road. Dean will collapse on the bed's yielding surface and hold out his arm to Sam—for them to fuck or sleep or even just _lie_ together and stare at the TV for a couple hours in mindless fascination. Sam falls asleep like that and wakes up trapped and half-strangled under Dean's sprawling weight, sweated out because Dean puts out heat like a damn _furnace..._

But he wouldn't trade it. He won’t give up.

_Because this is not the end._


End file.
